


pretty boy

by seiseijoh



Series: i hate you (i've got you) [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Sex, Banter, Couch Sex, Dirty Talk, Friends With Benefits, Getting Together, M/M, Pet Names, Riding, brief mention of drugs/overdose, it's not matsuhana without banter, mild overuse of the word fuck thanks to hanamaki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:47:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25551550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seiseijoh/pseuds/seiseijoh
Summary: “Come here often, pretty boy?” Matsukawa rasps.His smirk is lazy and irritating, and Hanamaki isthisclose to smacking it right off his face. With a roll of his eyes, he huffs, “You’re kidding me.”Matsukawa curls a hand around the back of Hanamaki’s neck, drags him in closer. His lips brush the other’s jaw as he asks, “Does it sound like I’m kidding?”“Fucking always. Are you really –” Hanamaki’s voice hitches. The room is too hot; his skin is burning under Matsukawa’s fingertips. “Are you really trying to use that fucking awful pickup line –” He knocks his forehead against Matsukawa’s, “– when your dick is in my ass?”
Relationships: Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei
Series: i hate you (i've got you) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1870471
Comments: 22
Kudos: 328
Collections: expressions of love, matsuhana fics





	pretty boy

**Author's Note:**

> i've always enjoyed writing matsukawa and hanamaki (in the million and one things i've never finished rip), and a couple weeks ago i was reading back over some old fics i'd written (we're talking o l d) when i found a gem from a different fandom, and immediately my brain just said 'rewrite this for matsuhana' so i did lmao
> 
> no beta we die like men

“Come here often, pretty boy?” Matsukawa rasps.

His smirk is lazy and irritating, and Hanamaki is _this_ close to smacking it right off his face. With a roll of his eyes, he huffs, “You’re kidding me.”

Matsukawa curls a hand around the back of Hanamaki’s neck, drags him in closer. His lips brush the other’s jaw as he asks, “Does it sound like I’m kidding?”

“Fucking always. Are you really –” Hanamaki’s voice hitches. The room is too hot; his skin is burning under Matsukawa’s fingertips. “Are you really trying to use that fucking awful pickup line –” He knocks his forehead against Matsukawa’s, “– when your dick is in my ass?”

Matsukawa laughs breathlessly. He rolls his hips up at the same time as he drops his hands to Hanamaki’s waist, dragging him down to meet them. A ragged moan escapes Hanamaki, and he digs his nails into the other’s shoulders in retaliation.

“Is there a better time?”

“I…” Hanamaki tries to raise himself up on his knees, but it’s a hard task when he’s got almost no feeling in his legs. Matsukawa presses butterfly kisses along his jaw when he groans in frustration, “Fuck, I fucking hate you.”

“Really?”

Matsukawa braces himself against the back of the couch and lifts Hanamaki slowly, laying more kisses down his neck. For a moment, Hanamaki’s afraid he’s going to pull out completely and he whines, clawing at his shoulders. Yeah, it’s a little pathetic, but he knows Matsukawa is just as likely to pull some dumb shit as he is to actually give him what he wants, and he can’t take that right now.

But he doesn’t pull out – instead, he slams Hanamaki back down, hips snapping up at the same time. Hanamaki arches, head thrown back as a broken cry rips from his throat, but Matsukawa’s hands are there, burning hot, drawing him back and pressing them together.

“Are you sure?” he drawls as Hanamaki buries his face into his shoulder. “Because that’s not what you were saying the other day when I bent you over the kitchen table.”

He continues to slow drag up and fast slam down, each time holding off just a little longer before fucking into him. Part of Hanamaki wants to lift his head and open his eyes, meet Matsukawa’s gaze each and every time. But the part that wins is the part that wants to stay exactly where he is, teeth grazing Matsukawa's racing pulse point, trembling as the other continues to speak.

“Or when I made you see stars last week in the stairwell. Or when we were at Oikawa's party, and I got you off you in front of everyone and they didn’t even know. Or when I caught you after class and –”

Hanamaki bites, hard. Matsukawa jerks beneath him with a startled, pained sound, and Hanamaki makes the effort to lift his head and glare.

“I was definitely saying I hate you each of those times.” His voice is softer and breathier than he’d like, but it gets the point across.

Matsukawa smirks. “You certainly weren’t saying it when I was sucking your dick in the library yesterday.”

“I didn’t exactly have a choice that time. If I’d fucking _breathed_ , the entire fucking library staff would have been on us.” Hanamaki drops his head back to Matsukawa’s shoulder, mouthing over the bite. “And I was thinking it anyway.”

When Matsukawa doesn’t lift him again, he’s pretty sure it’s out of spite. His suspicions are confirmed when Matsukawa instead opts to hold him in his lap firmly and shift to shallow, rolling thrusts. Over and over, slow and torturous – Hanamaki grits his teeth, sucks in a breath as tears start to gather. It’s good, _fuck_ it’s good, but it’s not enough. He fights, pressing hard on Matsukawa’s shoulders to get some leverage, but he just doesn’t have the strength.

“So?” Matsukawa sounds breathless, but not anywhere near as wrecked as Hanamaki feels. “You didn’t answer my question. Come here often, pretty boy?”

“I can’t believe…” Hanamaki pants, “that you thought you could pick me up with that line…” He bites his lip, wriggles in Matsukawa's lap. “Fuck, fuck you.”

“It worked, didn’t it?” Matsukawa grins.

Hanamaki lifts his head again, stares at him as the memories surface. First week of university, and he’d been invited to a party by one of his classmates. Said party was a shitshow to say the least, ending with five arrests and a non-fatal drug overdose, but it had also ended with him taking a chance on a handsome stranger with a lazy smile and terrible sense of humour – and getting his brains fucked out. Overall, not the worst night of his life.

In the months since then, the friends with benefits scheme has worked well for them – well enough, anyway. Well enough that Hanamaki is getting a ton of amazing sex, but there are times, too many for comfort, where he finds himself wondering what it would be like if their relationship took a more serious turn.

“Do you?” Matsukawa asks.

“What?” Hanamaki blinks, snapping back. Matsukawa still isn’t moving with any real purpose other than to torment him, and Hanamaki rocks in his lap. “Fuck, Issei, will you _do_ something? Move. Touch me. Fuck, _touch_ me.”

He isn’t really expecting a whole lot to come of the demand – Matsukawa has made it perfectly clear who’s running the show right now. So it’s a surprise when a hand wraps around his dick, pulling a raw gasp from him.

“Do you come here often?” Matsukawa mumbles into his jaw, flicking his thumb.

Hanamaki groans. “Fuck’s sake. You’re hilarious, okay?”

“Do you want to?”

The wobble in his voice is almost hidden, the words soft and whispered into his skin. But Hanamaki doesn’t miss it, or the way his hand shakes around him. It takes him a long, long moment to process what Matsukawa is trying to say in his stupid, roundabout way. When it clicks, he cups Matsukawa’s face with both hands, forcing him to make eye contact. Matsukawa slows, then stops, and grips the other's thighs hard enough for him to feel it.

“If you’re trying to ask me out…” Hanamaki presses his forehead to Matsukawa’s, “then that’s the stupidest fucking way I’ve ever heard. You’re a moron.”

“Is that a no?”

“No, it’s not a no. I just can’t believe you’re so fucking stupid. Except that’s a lie, I can totally believe that, that’s actually really believable – _Issei for the love of everything just fuck me already_.”

Matsukawa huffs out a breath of a laugh. “Are you just saying yes because you want me to fuck you?”

“ _Issei_.”

He isn’t ready. He thinks he’s ready, because his body is _aching_ for it, to be fucked and used and filled. He’s already full, flush against Matsukawa’s hips, but it’s not even close to enough. Either Matsukawa gets his shit together, or Hanamaki is going to figure out a way to get his legs working again and do it himself. He _needs_ it.

Matsukawa grabs his hips with bruising strength, and before Hanamaki has the chance to string together another partially-coherent thought about how desperate he is, he’s been flipped, pressed hard into the back of the couch, useless legs hiked over broad shoulders as he’s all but folded in half.

Matsukawa fucks him like he asked, and he’s not ready.

Hanamaki has no choice but to throw his head back and just take it. He grabs at Matsukawa’s hair, pulls hard, and gets a curse out of him. But that’s the only control he has. The new position makes it hard to speak, hard to even breathe, and all he can do is choke out whines and gasps. One thrust hits _just_ right, sending shockwaves through his body and tearing a sob from him. Matsukawa somehow pulls him closer, despite the fact Hanamaki feels like there isn’t a molecule of air between them, and aims to hit that angle it again, and again, and again.

“’sei…” Hanamaki’s voice cracks.

A litany of swears falls from Matsukawa's lips as he comes, but Hanamaki barely registers them, too preoccupied with the fact that while he’s being fucked to within an inch of his life, his partner’s satisfied and he’s not. Matsukawa starts to slow, leaning back a little and relieving some of the pressure on his chest. Hanamaki cries out, fingers tightening in the other's hair.

“Fuck, please, Issei, don’t – I – _fuck_.”

“I got you,” Matsukawa pants.

He takes hold of Hanamaki’s dick and strokes, firm and demanding. Hanamaki gasps. He wants to push up into his hand, but he can’t move, trapped between the couch and Matsukawa’s body, unable to do anything but let him touch him however he likes.

When he comes, it’s to Matsukawa’s low, rumbling coaxing to ‘ _come on, pretty boy, come for me_ ’.

Hanamaki collapses against the couch. His brain has melted down into a slush, which he isn’t entirely sure isn’t just escaping out of his ears. In the near-silence, broken only by their heavy breathing, Matsukawa slides one hand down Hanamaki’s arm, keeping himself stable up with the other. His fingers trail across his thigh, his side – the touch is too light for what’s left of Hanamaki's slush-brain to handle, and he shifts uncomfortably underneath him with a whimper.

“So, did you just say yes because you wanted me to fuck you,” Matsukawa asks, his voice like gravel, “or because you actually want to date me?”

Hanamaki sighs. “Yeah.”

“To which one, dumbass?”

Wearily, Hanamaki opens his eyes – he’s not sure when he closed them – and glares. “Dating you, asshole.”

Matsukawa smiles softly. “Good.”

He wraps his arms around Hanamaki and, slower than before, flips them back to their original position. He pulls out as he does, despite Hanamaki’s whine of protest. Once he’s settled properly in Matsukawa’s lap, Hanamaki lays his head on the other’s shoulder, nuzzling into him. Matsukawa’s hands slide over his body, firmer this time, warm instead of scorching.

“We need a shower.”

“In a minute,” Hanamaki yawns.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Good.” He presses an approximation of a kiss to the other’s neck. “How long have you been waiting to ask me out?”

Matsukawa sighs. “A while.”

“What made you ask now?”

“I had the chance?” Matsukawa laughs weakly. “Really though, I thought you were starting to catch on.”

Hanamaki frowns and sits up, wrapping his arms around Matsukawa’s neck.

“Why,” he asks, “would I think that the guy who’s been very clear about the ‘friends with benefits’ nature of this relationship would be interested in me in any other way?”

Matsukawa smirks. “I told you when we started this whole thing – I don’t suck dick. I thought you might have recalled that while I was actually sucking your dick yesterday.”

“I did,” Hanamaki says with a laugh. “I just thought you’d finally realised how great my dick is.”

He leans forward and Matsukawa meets him. It’s only a few seconds before Hanamaki’s melting into the kiss, body going slack under strong, supportive hands.

Matsukawa breaks the kiss to ask, “Shower? You always get shitty when come dries on you, and I don’t want to deal with you when you’re shitty.”

“You’ll have to carry me. I can’t feel my legs,” Hanamaki grins. “And you have to deal with me when I’m shitty. You’re my boyfriend now. That’s what boyfriends do.”

Matsukawa rolls his eyes but, carefully, lifts Hanamaki off his lap and deposits him on the couch next to him. Once the condom’s been dealt with, he stands and helps Hanamaki grab onto him, arms tight around his shoulders and legs locked around his waist.

“Hanamaki Takahiro, if you think I’m going to listen to you whine just because we’re dating,” Matsukawa says as he makes his way towards the bathroom, a little unsteady on his feet under the weight, “you’ve got another thing coming.”

“I mean, I hope so,” Hanamaki quips. “I’m demanding another orgasm as an apology for asking me out in the stupidest way possible.”

“And what do I get in return?”

“It’s an apology, you don’t get anything.”

“I just made your life ten times better by becoming your boyfriend.” The bathroom door is already ajar, and Matsukawa kicks it open. “I should get something for that.”

“Oh, this is going to be a transactional relationship, huh?” Hanamaki laughs. “Okay, I'll make you pancakes for breakfast tomorrow. Also, you get my eternal love and affection.”

Matsukawa pauses, and Hanamaki giggles – until the support of Matsukawa’s arms disappear and he falls, crashing to the freezing tile floor of the shower with a shout. Once he’s got his bearings, he looks up at his boyfriend, who’s staring at him with arms crossed, one eyebrow quirked, and a slight blush colouring his cheeks.

“Skip the pancakes; you won’t be able to walk tomorrow. I’ll take the eternal love and affection and a blowjob.”

Hanamaki’s stomach flips, heat growing low in his belly to match the warmth in his chest. He grins and puts out a hand.

“It’s a deal.”

Matsukawa takes his hand, yanking him to his feet and into a kiss. Hanamaki wraps his arms around his boyfriend’s shoulders, while Matsukawa loops his around the other’s waist.

Against his lips, Matsukawa smirks. “Pleasure doing business with you, pretty boy.”


End file.
